Counseling: Partial Care, Partial Nightmare; A Princeton Review.

I work in a Partial Care Unit for people with mental health complications in Upstate New York. Let me begin by saying that I love my job. I absolutely love it. Running groups in a partial care facility and counseling is an amazing experience, and I am really connecting with my clients.

However, this place is slowly turning into a gorgeous nightmare.

My second week on the job, a huge bomb was dropped on me while I was at work, and I was outside on the phone on my lunch break, and I totally freaked out. I lost it. I never freak out publicly like that, and the one time I do, it’s there. Most of my conversation was in Arabic, so I’m not entirely sure how the person who reported me claimed I was cursing, but that’s okay. Arabic is a harsh language sometimes, and I was pretty loud. That was completely my fault.

My supervisor flipped about it, and I apologized at least fifteen times, and we moved on. She warned me not to text during meetings at all, and that was that.

And then yesterday, I was having a super pleasant morning, when my supervisor calls me in yet again. She was pissed that I was “texting” in case management and mindfulness, that morning. The counselors said I was, and that I laughed. My supervisor basically said that if I do one more thing, I’m fired.

First of all, I will swear on my grandfather’s grave that I was not texting. The clients were doing a silent activity. The main counselor was on her surface doing something else, so I thought it would be cool if I read.

Secondly, I was looking up group techniques, and then I found this fan fiction I wrote when I was 13 in one of my old email’s drafts. My god, it was horrible. That’s why I laughed quietly to myself. I was not texting. I was not even for a second texting. I did not knowingly break the rules.

Basically, if one more thing crosses her path, I am fired.

She threatened my job because I had my phone out in a room where the lights were off and everyone was basically knocked out. I was reading. I had my phone on the table and I was scrolling. How the hell does that mean that I was texting?

I legitimately had no clue I wasn’t allowed to have my phone out. No one told me, and instead of telling me I shouldn’t have it out, I just get in trouble. Superviser bugged out.

Are you serious? This is supposed to be a learning experience. I am a lowly, new intern and it is my first month. I don’t know all the rules, yet. If I did, why would I be openly doing it right in front of them? I WOULD BE HIDING IT!

I’m terrified to go to work, now. This could be the difference between me graduating and me failing out of school.

It wasn’t intentional. It was not in any way intentional. It was a misunderstanding. I was reading. R-E-A-D-I-N-G!

I am so ridiculously upset about this. I was having such a great day. My clients went to my supervisor and other counselors and said I was really good. Obviously, I’m doing my work well. Threatening my job over reading on my phone was so, so excessive.

I’m so tired of screwing up accidentally. I’m walking on egg shells, and I’m extremely anxious all the time, there. It’s a great place to work, but it’s seriously like walking a trapeze wire hanging above Satan’s living room, just waiting on one stumble to take care of me his way.

And I get to go back tomorrow.

Woo.

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